


more like ruthless

by realjane



Series: Relentless (Hogwarts Era series) [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco going feral, F/M, Hermione going full valkyrie, Making peace with each other's friends, Slytherin boys are apparently extremely gullible, What even is canon and what is this even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28621884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realjane/pseuds/realjane
Summary: Hermione channels her inner Slytherin, while Draco is duly duped. Trying to get to know each other's best friends, the two have opposite experiences.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Relentless (Hogwarts Era series) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081031
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64





	more like ruthless

**Author's Note:**

> Part 7 of my Ruthless series - there is no excuse for this energy other than the cough medicine I'm on, and the number of days I've been in quarantine.

She sat between the boys because she knew they liked it better when they had the long-view, down the barrel of a challenge. It would unsettle them to sit beside their… problem, as they were calling her, and she counted on their discomfort. She welcomed it. The more uncomfortable, the better. The sticking charm was just extra insurance. It would mean a lot to Draco to have his friends back. He didn’t have to know the exact… lengths she was willing to go through to make certain that Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini understood her terms. As far as Draco knew, she was clearing the air with the Slytherins, just as he was going to attempt to do the same with her friends. 

It was his idea, one he immediately regretted the moment it came out of his mouth. Hermione had been gobsmacked by his willingness to do so. These days, however, Draco Malfoy was doing his level best to prove to her that he didn’t have any regrets about their relationship. 

Hermione was turning over a slightly  _ different _ leaf, at least when it came to the two boys who had been Draco’s closest confidants in years past. She had them cornered at the end of the Slytherin table so there wasn’t anyone close enough to overhear them. Pansy was a lost cause, but Hermione had sensed some regret that Draco was distant from Blaise and Theo. If Draco was willing to sit down with Harry and Ron, then she was willing to take a meal amongst poisonous snakes. 

She had  _ firm _ terms if they were going to run in the same circle. They came to her organically, but she was unmoving on the specifics, even as they formed in her mind. 

The terms were these:

  * Draco needs friends who understand what he went through during the war. Nobody comes close except the two of them. That being said, they were not to pester him about it.
  * If one of them uttered the slur which used to flow from their mouths like water, getting a Howler from home was going to be the least of their problems.
  * What Draco got up to with her was not their business, and they were tasked with ensuring it wasn’t anyone else’s business either. If she heard a single rumor about herself, she’d know they weren’t holding up their end of the bargain.
  * No ribbing Draco for showing his affection. Showing one’s feelings was sexy, and ‘they’d thank her to remember that.’
  * Partners were to be respected. She’d make sure they were _persona non grata_ to all potential dates if she suspected they weren’t being gentlemen.



And--”no, no you can’t ask any questions, those are the terms.” She primly wiped her mouth with her napkin. “You follow my terms. We don’t have a problem. The end.”

Nott laughed incredulously, but his trousers were affixed to the bench, and he couldn’t liberate himself from the conversation without abandoning his uniform. He leaned as far away from her as he could.

Nott pointed at the blond boy, who was sitting at the Gryffindor table with his back to them. “He told you to sit here and threaten us?”

“He doesn’t know what I’m telling you.” She shrugged.

“What’s your angle, Granger? Afraid we don’t approve of your little tryst?” Zabini took the news of her demands much cooler. He perched a breadstick between his fingers like a cigar and glanced down at the girl. 

She shook her head. “I don’t care what you think.”

“You don’t,” Nott scoffed.

“Nope.”

“I find that… a little difficult to believe.”

“Which part?”

Nott glanced at his friend. “I saw you after what Pansy did. You think you’re immune, but you’re just as sensitive as you always were.”

“That’s your opinion.”

Zabini laughed. “What’s the point of all this?”

“Oh? Hmm. Guess I haven’t been clear enough.” She stood. “You’re eighth-years. You may have been on the wrong side of the war, but the war’s over. Have a little dignity. And if you don’t? Well.” She leaned down close to Nott, who sneered. “I’m Head Girl. It’s as good as diplomatic immunity.”

“Wonder what my father would say if he knew Granger was trying to blackmail me--”

“Not much, I’m guessing, seeing that he’s rotting in Azkaban,” Hermione sighed. 

“How dare you!” Nott tried to rise but the bench clattered beneath his charmed trousers. “Blaise!”

Zabini crossed his arms. “I don’t know what you expect me to do, Theo. She’s got your number.”

“You’re going to sit there and let this Mud--”

Before he could finish the word, her wand was pressed to his trachea and Nott was gasping for breath. “That’s the only one you get, Theodore. Would you like to finish that thought?” He shook his head faintly. She patted him on the head as patronizingly as she could muster, and by gods, she was sickeningly good at it. “That’s wise. Good boy.”

When her wand was a safe distance from his sniveling little neck, Nott cowered over his untouched supper. Zabini held out his hand to the girl. “I find that a quiet life in retirement is for me, milady.”

“As long as you never call me that again,” Hermione winced, taking the boy’s hand. He raised an eyebrow and shook on it. When he beamed at her with no ounce of ill-will, her pride swelled. Zabini wasn’t a hard one to win over. He never had been, really. It was to his detriment that he cut such an imposing figure because with a smirk on his face, he really was fetching. She could see why several Ravenclaws had carved his initials into the fourth floor girl’s lavatory garbage can. He was trash, but very  _ cute  _ trash.

She waved her wand. “You may go, Blaise.”

“My queen.” The italian stood and bowed to her. He patted Nott on the shoulder. “Theo.”

Hermione smiled brightly and turned on her heel. She waved away the other charm--the disillusionment that had kept their little tête-à-tête private… and prevented the Headmistress from seeing her threaten Nott with a tracheotomy. It was for the best if she tamped down this new streak in herself--the one which took a little too much joy in threatening people on Draco’s behalf. 

“Wait! You’re not going to let me go?” Nott called after her desperately, but she pretended not to hear him.

“Guess you’ll have to walk back in your pants, mate.” Zabini’s laughter warmed the cockles of her heart. 

Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco’s shoulders from behind. When he looked up at her, albeit slowly, his eyes were wide and his mouth was pressed into a line. 

“Have a good dinner?” she asked. He said nothing, but Ron and Harry nodded. 

“He knows way more about quidditch than you, Hermione. To be honest, I think you’ve been replaced.” Harry grinned when she raised her eyebrows. She glanced at Ron but he seemed to be fully in agreement. He shared a small chuckle with Harry, and there was obviously more to the story that she would be pulling out of Draco later, but… she was relieved to see her boys take so readily to Draco. Almost as if they had expected it all along… she narrowed her eyes.

“Mmkay. We’re going to go now. Draco? Come on-- _ Merlin, stand up-- _ there you go.” She managed to get him to his feet and moving, but he left his wand and bag at the table. Hermione slung his bag over her body and stuffed his wand into her messy bun. He stood uselessly beside the table until she was ready. 

He was despondent until she sat him at a table in the library. Then, he put his head down on the table, face-first. She stashed both of their bags beneath it.

“Oh my gods, Granger--it, it was torture!” He groaned into the mahogany. She scooted her chair up to his side.

“Seriously? You looked chummy!”

He grasped the air wildly for her hand and when she gave it, he clutched it against his chest. “They were so… so…”

“What? Draco, look at me.”

He raised his head in slow-motion and fixed the most pathetic puppy eyes on her. “They were so  _ nice.” _

She blinked. “Nice.”

“Yeah. They asked me about how I like playing seeker, and what my favorite hold is, and which professional players I admire, and how I’d handle a tri-corner maneuver if my team was down in the last interval…” He scoffed and pushed his hair back in astonishment. “Hermione. Hermione. Listen to me.”

She couldn’t help but giggle. She cupped his cheeks. “I’m listening.”

“They were  _ nice  _ to me. Are you hearing me?”

“Draco…” Hermione scratched her cheek. “Out of curiosity. When is Slytherin’s next match against Gryffindor?”

“Um. Next Friday. Why?”

“And you’re playing in that match.”

“And you’re wearing my jersey, because you promised--”

“Yes,” she laughed. “Darling. I think the boys may have been trying to suss out your tactics for the upcoming match, and… I think it worked.”

Blood drained from Draco’s face and he groaned. “I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, but you’re just so cute when you’re dramatic!” She kissed him with a smack and he hauled her into his lap, so he could be properly embarrassed in the curve of her neck. He hummed when she rubbed his earlobe. 

“How’d it go with Blaise and Theo?”   


“Oh, fine. They were  _ nice.” _

He huffed into her neck, making the baby hairs of her bun dance off her nape. “Figures.”

Hermione rubbed his shoulders and hummed her approval when he squeezed her tightly. “Why are Slytherins so  _ gullible?”  _ she whispered.

He gasped. “We are not!” His head snapped up and he was  _ incredulous. _ “We’re cunning! We’re like... foxes! You’re--you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, my darling seeker. I sure am.” She kissed the end of his nose and he frowned.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, or I’d be very upset right now.”

“Oh, you would?” She put her toes on the ground and batted her eyes innocently. “What would you do, though? In retaliation?”

The experience of turning Draco Malfoy from mortified to  _ feral _ turned out to involve her ankles going above her head as he literally  _ threw her over his shoulder.  _ He didn’t seem to have a plan, so he deposited her into the oversized couch (very gently but with much drama, he protected her neck) with a respectful toss. Then, he was upon her. With much tickling, which she  _ hated. _

He didn’t let up until she managed to latch both arms around his neck and fastened her face to his. It wasn’t particularly romantic, but it was a very useful ‘off’ button. Draco tested the limits of her lungs. With him above her, Hermione was well and truly trapped. Willingly so.

“Grang… er…  _ mmph…” _ He pulled away but her lips chased his. “I think… perhaps--wait, wait, wait, ha!” He slid off the edge of the chair and fell on his arse. He played it off, leaning with one arm propping up his head. She covered her mouth so as not to openly laugh at him.

“As I was saying,” he said, as his ears turned pink. “I think perhaps we ought to limit what time we spend with our  _ friends,  _ so as not to be caught unawares.”

“If you think so,” she said lightly. “I think I handled myself rather well.”

“They didn’t give you any trouble?”

“Mmm, no. I don’t suspect they will in the future, either.” She kissed his cheek. She tried to climb over him but he held her fast.

“What did you do?”

“I just gave them my terms.” 

“Terms, huh?”

“Yep. They behave, and we don’t have a problem.”

Draco didn’t question her further but he gave her a curious look. She offered no explanation either. Just an innocent smile. 

Sometime later, when ducked behind a tapestry to avoid Mrs. Norris,  _ well after curfew, _ Draco caught a glimpse of a student in the glare of Filch’s flashlight. A lonely eighth-year brunette boy, in only his pants, who had spectacularly failed at making it back to the Slytherin dormitory unseen.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to join me on Tumblr to contribute to my prompt list or just to chat, at TheSuperJane.


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